


Weapon X: The Story of Me and You

by Super_Danvers



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Hologram Tony, angsty, avengers post endgame, caroljess - Freeform, carolnat friendship, detective duo, detective!jess, gerry drew (mentioned), hawkeye is, hawkeye shoulda died lets be honest, jess is alicia vikander, jessnat potential friendship, nat isn't dead, obviously, slowburn, spiderwoman - Freeform, starforce mentioned, what i imagine mcu spiderwoman as
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 12:08:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19150738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Super_Danvers/pseuds/Super_Danvers
Summary: When kids start going super, private investigator and retired superhero, Jessica Drew is back on the case. Resuming her duties after the events of the Decimation, Jess is introduced to the world's strongest Avenger, Carol Danvers. With the city falling into chaos, the two must work together (and through their issues) to solve the crimes of an old friend.This work is dedicated to Jorene.





	Weapon X: The Story of Me and You

**Chapter 1**

**2023**

If it hadn’t of been for the death and funeral of Tony Stark: Carol Danvers probably wouldn’t have met Jessica Drew.

She was standing under the shade of a large tree, away from the crowd, her dark coat buttoned all the way up despite the warmth of the approaching afternoon. From Carol’s position on the Stark porch, she could make out dark hair spilling out from underneath the wide-brimmed hat that she wore over a pair of large sunglasses. Carol watched her, intrigued by the stranger’s unusual get-up. As if she knew she was being observed, the woman turned and walked back through the trees behind the Stark house, and disappeared from sight.

After the service, tea was served and drinks were poured and little sandwiches were passed around on silver trays, and Carol watched the mourners casually appraise their surroundings. The major topic of hushed conversation was the future of the Avengers. With Banner injured, Barton dead, Odinson out of action, Romanoff seeking other opportunities and Rogers hanging up his shield: nobody could predict their actions now. Carol could see the greed seep into the watery eyes of Fury’s S.H.I.E.L.D. agents as they nodded sadly and spoke sombrely to people they didn’t even know. She carefully noted which ones pocketed items when they thought nobody was looking.

Leaving the crowd to their hushed whispers, Carol decided to go for a walk. The corridors of the Stark home were long and lined with photos and paintings. The floor beneath Carol’s boots were wooden, polished superbly and smelled like a true home. The gentle waft of lavender and mowed grass drifted through the hallways into Carol’s nose, and put her at ease. Carol wasn’t new to this home, often she was here one instant and gone the next.

Tony Stark had been a good ally. Arrogant and irresponsible at times, yes, but also childish and brilliant fun, with a light in his eyes that showed a glint of mischief. When they’d been sat in the  Avengers’ Facility through the beginning of the Decimation years, and Steve was taking him too seriously, Carol found herself privy to the nods and half-smiles Tony would offer her when nobody was looking. She admired his intelligence and his clever wit. He’d taught her a lot.

Carol’s fingers brushed over the spines of the books Tony kept in vast bookshelves. There were biographies and historical novels and a _lot_ of science texts with some of Morgan’s children’s books wedged between them. A lower shelf contained magazines with the Avengers plastered on the front. Although Tony didn’t care what people thought of him, he was evidently curious as to what they did think. Carol passed the shelves and approached the desk. She looked at his chair, and tried to imagine him working hard, how he must’ve hunched over it. And then, a smooth, voice that sounded like velvet cut through the silence:

“At least he died doing what he thought was right.”

Carol turned, surprised, to see the woman from the funeral in the long coat and hat standing in the doorway. Her sunglasses were still on, and her long dark hair cascaded around her shoulders. Her hands were covered by fingerless gloves, betraying the stranger’s olive complexion.

“Yes.” Carol replied, not able to think of anything else to say. “At least there’s that.”

“You’re one of his friends then?” The woman asked. “You’re not green, you’re not a god and you aren’t star-spangled so I’m guessing you’re new.”

Carol shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable that she didn’t know where the stranger’s eyes were looking. “Were you a friend of his?” She asked.

“I was.” The woman answered, tilting her head. The slight movement made Carol realise how unusually still the rest of her body was. “I’ve known him for a couple of years, met him in an alleyway in New York, back when people still wondered over Iron Man.”

Carol couldn’t see anything behind the woman’s sunglasses – they were pitch black. “Did you work for him? Like, at Stark Industries or something like Nat?”

“Me? Never. I wouldn’t know where to start.” The stranger chuckled warmly. “He was an individual like no other, Tony Stark. It seems you are too.”

Carol raised an eyebrow as she stared at the other woman. She interlocked her fingers together. “You say that like you know me.”

“Sharp-tongued, determined, intelligent, brave…remind you of anybody?”

“Yes. Tony.”

“Interesting.” The woman countered, shrugging a shoulder. Her gloved fingers delved into the pocket of her long coat and she produced a small pocket watch. She glanced at it from behind her thick glasses before pocketing it again. “Good luck with whatever you choose to do now.”

“Thanks.” Carol replied dumbly. “And you.”

She felt the woman smile as she turned from the doorway and left her in the study. Carol found she couldn’t take her eyes away from the spot the woman had been. She hadn’t even gotten her name. Carol crossed over to the door and stepped out, wondering how the woman had vanished from view so quickly.

She re-joined the reception just in time to see another agent pocket an ashtray. It seemed she was not the only one watching the other so-called mourners as a familiar face drifted through the crowd, pick-pocketing the agent as she brushed past and replacing the ashtray. Carol smirked as Natasha Romanoff reached her. The Black Widow hadn’t changed since the Decimation had ended, her red hair still braided into a single plait and blending into a sandy blonde at the tips.

“Still vigilant as ever.” She commented to the approaching redhead.

Nat rolled her eyes, throwing a dirty glance at the agent, who was still looking around sheepishly. “Fuckin’ freeloaders.” She shook her head. “How are you holding up?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You knew him better than me.”

Nat shrugged. “Perhaps, but I do not think the amount you knew of someone outweighs the grief of others who knew less.” She said, taking a whiskey off of a passing waiter. “You can mourn Tony just as much as I can.”

Carol nodded thickly. “I guess.” She murmured. “So, I hear you’re planning on beginning the Romanoff project-“

“A working title.” Natasha added, earning a small smile from the blonde. “Yes, I am. Well, extending it anyways.”

“What is it?”

“An organisation, a rescue charity, whatever they get called. I grew up in poverty and pain without my parents. During the snap, thousands of children were left without parents. I couldn’t let what happened to me happen to any other kid – especially when they can’t help it. Now everyone is back: I’m going to at least try and help those kids find their parents again. You wouldn’t believe how many there are.” Natasha informed her. She seemed almost like she was lost when she said it, out of touch with reality. After a moment, the former agent smiled softly. “That should keep me occupied for a few years, shouldn’t it?”

Carol returned a half-smile and gently clapped a hand on her shoulder. “That sounds like something you should do.” She told her strongly.

Natasha nodded. “Can I count on your help?”

“No need to ask. Page me and I’m yours.”

“You still carry that thing around?”

Carol raised an eyebrow, producing the tiny pager from her jacket. It bleeped into life, flashing her star with the royal red and blue. “Of course.” She glanced out of the corner of her eye.

Fury was looking at them, holding his own pager, and an annoyed expression on his face. Carol tried not to laugh.

 

++

It was almost eleven at night when Carol left the Stark home, walking up the path to her silver Audi. Bidding her goodbyes to the grieving Pepper and ever-hopeful Morgan was difficult, but she’d promise to return in good time.

Whilst Carol didn’t necessarily need a car to travel, she preferred to use one of late. Lighting up like a firework show when she flew anyway wasn’t helpful when you lived in a bustling city and were trying to downplay your choice of home. The car not only hid her secret, but kept her dry during stormy weather, which it was doing on this particular night. Fat drops as large as her fist were hailing down on Carol’s windscreen like they were going out of fashion. Faster and faster, the rain fell so quickly that Carol had to put her wipers on at full blast as she drove away from the Starks.

It was pitch black out, and the road she drove along wasn’t well lit so when Carol’s windscreen suddenly became even darker and collided against something solid – she couldn’t say it was easy to avoid. Whatever had launched itself at her car had done it with force. It shattered the screen, sending glass all over Carol and her seats. She locked her hands on the wheel as the object – or rather, the _figure_ – smashed into her chest and landed on her lap. The car was swerving around the road now: Carol was lucky it was late and so there were no other drivers to make the situation worse.

One moment the car was spinning around the road, the next, light filled it and the world started to buck: the only sounds a terrifying crash and the shriek of metal on metal. The figure was thrown out through the smashed screen again as Carol lurched against her seatbelt and slammed her head against the window. The street outside tilted wildly and she realised that the Audi was flipping over. For an instant, she was weightless, and then the Audi hit the ground again and jarred her against the dashboard.

It rocked on its tyres, coming to a stop. The Audi was still, its engine cut out, but there was another engine humming not far away. Carol’s eyes scanned the dark sky above her, her brain too stunned to think. A car door opened and closed. _Look up_. Footsteps, hurrying footsteps. _Look up NOW_. For the second time that night, a window exploded beside her before a man with a scruffy beard was grabbing her and dragging her out of the car.

She glimpsed the man’s face as she was dragged past what was left of the Audi’s headlights. It was twisted in an expression of hate and anger, but young and fair. His eyes were glowing a bright blue, not unlike Thor’s, and seemed to dance like fire as he snarled at her.

He lifted her like she weighed nothing and slammed her onto the bonnet of the other car. His grip was like iron, even for Carol’s strength, she was having trouble trying to get him off of her. The harder he pinned her to the car, the more his hands seemed to glow. Blue smoke was seeping out of him, literally. It flowed from his eyes, his mouth, his fists and even his nose.

“You will die right here.” He snarled in a metallic voice, his fingers digging into her throat. “-if you don’t tell us where the core is.”

Her hands were on his, trying to use her own powers to break his grip, but it was barely affecting him. It wasn’t even singing his skin.

“Get…off…of me.” She growled; her voice hoarse from his hands around her neck. “I don’t….know anything…about a core.”

The street was empty around them: shopfronts and other businesses were already shut up for the night. With nobody around, Carol knew she had no backup. Nobody would come and save her. The young man slammed her onto the bonnet again. She weighed nothing to him, almost as light as a feather.

“If you don’t know anything, you’re of no use to us-“ He leaned down, close to her ear, whispering his next threat in a voice so sharp it could cut through bone. “I might as well snap your neck right here.”

Carol stared up at his horrible face, ugly and twisted, and stopped trying to pull his hands away. Instead, her fingers went to his glowing eyes and she jammed them in there. He screamed, his voice breaking so it was almost boyish, and let go, staggering backwards in pain. Carol kicked off of the car, one hand massaging her throat whilst the other pointed at the young man.

As his hands came away from his eyes, Carol sent a photon blast at him but the man sidestepped the ball of flame, letting it explode into the wall behind him. With pained eyes, he lunged whilst she ducked. As Carol straightened up to punch him, she saw something new. A figure had emerged from the shadows and tackled the young man.

They were on his back, their hands digging into his eyes again, as he leaped around beneath them and tried to throw them off. They called out to Carol, who was stood by the Audi, dumbfounded.

“Run! Go!” They shouted, kicking the man. “Get out of here!”

Carol was frozen: she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t see the stranger clearly, not even in the headlights of the two cars. All she knew was that it was a woman, and about the same size as the young man as her feet didn’t quite touch the floor as she kicked around with him.

“Get out of here!” The woman screamed again, this time as more of a command with a firm tone.

Carol shook her head, powering up her fists. She would not be perceived as weak when just two weeks ago she’d held one of the most powerful beings still with just one hand. Carol held her ground, trying to get a good shot of the young man, but it was difficult as he bucked around with the stranger on top of him. It was like watching a rodeo.

The woman called again, and this time, Carol recognised her voice. “Carol Danvers, you shoot that shot and I will personally end you!” She snarled. It was the woman from the Stark funeral. “Get out of here!”

As she shouted this, the man managed to grab hold of her and threw her at a wall. The woman hit it, and did not get up. The man lunged at Carol, and this time she ran. She took off the opposite way, passing the two cars and running on. The only way she’d be able to properly fight this man would be in clear light. The street was too wide, too long and his footsteps were fast approaching. Carol dived into a narrow alleyway, sprinting down it. The canal was up ahead, she could see it lit up by streetlights – and so made that her goal.

She was aware the man was right behind her; she could see the blue energy out of the corner of her eye. Carol felt his fingers on her shoulder. The first touch was fleeting, failing to grasp her hair, but the second was a grip. His hand tightened around her jacket just as Carol reached the edge of the canal. She planted her feet, her hands gripping onto the railing as she threw her shoulder forward.

The young man let out a shriek as Carol dipped her shoulder and he sailed over her body and into the canal beyond them. The freezing water enveloped him for a few seconds before he burst the surface again with a scream. For a moment, Carol thought that maybe he couldn’t swim, but something was off. He was screaming, flailing about and then she realised: the water was hurting him. His cries were guttural as the dirty water burned through him, then turned silent as it parted him and left him most dead.

Carol couldn’t take her eyes away from the situation as what was left of the young man floated around below her. She watched the body for what felt like ages until she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard the footsteps approach, but she didn’t flinch away. Carol glanced to her new company. It was the stranger from before, still wearing the fingerless gloves. This time the hat was gone, and the long coat was replaced with a maroon hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. It was still too dimly lit to see her face. Beneath the hoodie was a black, under-armour shirt that ended underneath the woman’s gloves.

“Are you alright?” She asked. Now that Carol could hear the woman’s voice properly. It was a New York accent with almost an English twang to it, an accent that Carol had never heard before.

Carol just nodded dumbly. “Yeah, he was strong.”

The woman shrugged. “There was something wrong with him, that’s for sure.” She remarked, pointing to the bits in the river. The blue smoke, or whatever it had been, had lit up parts of the water brightly.

“Who was he?”

“No idea.” The woman shrugged again. “This is the fourth guy I’ve found like this.”

Carol turned to the woman. “And you are?”

This time the woman stepped into the light, closer to Carol. She stuck out a gloved hand and smiled. “Jessica Drew, private investigator.”


End file.
